


For Whom The Bell Tolls

by cartoonmoomba



Series: an exploration of Yeul and her tragic character (aka I really love Yeul) [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XIII Series, Final Fantasy XIII-2
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 15:58:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1393666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cartoonmoomba/pseuds/cartoonmoomba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Serah, in the place of existence between death and life. "...and Yeul laughs, her gaze refocusing on the subject of her wonderings. "Consider yourself saved, Serah Farron," she says, and the smile that stretches her face apart is infinitely empty. post XIII-2, pre LR.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Whom The Bell Tolls

**Disclaimer:** Final Fantasy XIII-2 does not belong to me.

 **AN:** I think this is my headcanon of what happens between the end of 13-2 and Lightning Returns – until I actually get the English copy in February, because I refuse to spoil myself until then. So this is probably not even LR compliant. Please read and review!

_For Whom The Bell Tolls_

o

She opens her eyes, and it is dark.

She had not realized that her eyes had closed – last she remembers, she was—

Her train of thought halts.

She does not remember.

.

.

She opens her eyes, and it is dark.

She had not realized that her eyes had closed – last she remembers, she was—

_(the sound of bells)_

Her train of thought halts.

She does not remember.

_(remember what?)_

.

.

She opens her eyes, and it is dark.

She had not realized that her eyes had closed – last she remembers, she was—

_(the sound of bells)_

_(a throne, a sister)_

_(don’t forget me)_

Her train of thought _(i have no regrets)_ halts.

.

.

She opens her eyes, and the darkness calls her name.

_Serah Farron._

.

.

The one thus named Serah wonders, does there exist the possibility of living?

The darkness recedes into an ebb of murky waters and grey skies, heavy with dark clouds that threaten rain. She is left to ponder this question, alone, on an island of sand the color of ash.

Unwavering, she calls out “Hello?”, and some of that resolve flickers at the responding silence.

Serah Farron, as dubbed by the darkness, knows that Serah Farron is dead.

She closes her eyes.

.

.

She figures that some time passes because the water begins to create noise. The sound feels familiar to her ears, incredibly loud in this absolute silence. Serah Farron forces her eyes open and looks from the patterns on the back of her eyelids to the endless sea _(a pier, a flicker, a figure)_ and is met with infinity.

She frowns.

She had almost expected someone.

.

.

“Serah Farron,” a quiet voice blazes like fire through the dreamless sleep she had not realized she had fallen into, startling her into consciousness.

“…Hello?” She asks, glancing about herself and the island of sand (ash?). Some sort of orb floats behind her, the only spark of light in this grey world. “Hello?” Serah asks again, uncertainty creeping in.

“Serah Farron,” the same voice whispers, and the orb stretches to become the outline of a bipedal being. “You must remember, Serah Farron.”

Serah furrows her brows. “Remember what?”

The outline of light grows arms – two of them, and then a circular shape that could pass for a skull. _It’s human,_ Serah realizes with a jolt, and steps back fearfully. “What are you?”

Colors begin to bleed in – the pale pink of skin, a flash of dull blue for hair. A mouth forms, and it says – no longer genderless but – with the voice of a young girl, “You and I are the same.”

Eyes form the shade of moss, _(I am)_ and elegant brows _(one of)_ and a small, petite nose _(many)_ complete the face, and Serah acts out on instinct, wonderstruck:

“Yeul!”

The one known (once) as Serah Farron, and the one known (eternally) as Yeul stand alone, together, on the island in the middle of a boundless sea. Above, the sky flashes with lightning.

So Serah Farron remembers.

.

.

“Is this… Valhalla?” The words come to Serah hesitantly, the name a tangible déjà vu on her tongue. “I don’t understand… Where are we?”

Yeul cocks her head, the waterfall of her hair shifting with her to brush against the glowing skin of her shoulder. “We are dead, Serah Farron. We are in Valhalla, but a Valhalla that is no longer whole. We are caught within a broken, left behind fragment of the Unseen World.”

“Are we… the only ones here?” Serah’s voice wavers, blue eyes glancing around desperately. “And what do you mean, ‘broken’? What happened to the rest of it? What happened to Lightning?” Her voice finally breaks midway through her sister’s name, tears pooling at the edges of her eyes. “Where’s my sister?”

The one who is endless – timeless – changes neither her expression, nor her tone of voice. “You and I have been blessed by the Goddess, whose gift robs us of both our life and our death. Our souls are to wash up unto the shores of Valhalla for all eternity, only to be cast back out into the human realm. Of course, that is how it would be…” and here, the edges of her lips curl so slightly that one could mistake it for merely the trick of the light. “If not for the fact that the Realms are now one, as were to happen upon Etro’s death. The chaos of Valhalla has seeped into the world of Gran Pulse, stopping all time. Humanity is now as close to being immortal as they could be.”

A beat of silence passes, then, as horror dawns upon the other’s face – “As for your sister, I do not know. There is no future anymore, rendering my gift useless.” Yeul now full out smiles; not the smile of softness Serah has seen before, but one of something darker. “How both curious and horrible this feeling is, Serah Farron.”

 _There is nothing to say to that_ , Serah thinks, so instead, “Which Yeul are you? Have you and I met?”

The brilliant, green eyes of her companion dim – or perhaps some unholy light glints, as a testament to her reply. “I am Yeul, the first, and I am all of the Paddra Nsu-Yeuls, and the last Yeul alive. I am all, and I am one. I am whole at last.”

“You are whole? What do you mean?”

Above, the sky continues to flash. And delayed, at last, in this incorrect existence – there comes the thunder.

“You were to share the same fate as I, Serah Farron,” the words come softly, perhaps a trace of pity within them. Or perhaps not, for a Yeul this ancient surely must not remember how to feel. “Had it not been for Etro’s death, your soul would have washed up on these shores when they were whole and every time it had been sent away, misguided by an act of love, your soul would have splintered apart into fragments left behind, and fragments sent back. You would have been reborn as Serah Farron, but you would have also been an entirely new Serah Farron. You would have been scattered across the timeline, born and dead and born again in a cycle of reincarnation. You would remember your past, but it would not feel as if it was yours – merely, it would be the past of a different Serah Farron. A dead Serah Farron… and so you would wait to join the cycle yourself.”

Yeul’s eyes close and she tilts her head back, lost within her own mind. “Even if Valhalla falls – and now that it has – our curse may have been lifted, but our souls were still sent here in the moment before time was destroyed. And so here I stand, the accumulation of all my past, present and future selves. We were all here, all at the right moment.”

And Yeul laughs, her gaze refocusing on the subject of her wonderings. “Consider yourself saved, Serah Farron,” she says, and the smile that stretches her face apart is infinitely empty.

.

.

Afterwards:

The two once Seeresses sit by side on their island of Valhalla, the waters of time lapping at their feet. “It must not be endless, then,” Serah murmurs, staring out at the ocean. “If there is no more time, then the water must end somewhere. I wonder what could be on the other side…”

Yeul remains silent, eyes unfocused. “Are you… okay?” Serah asks, sending a worried glance her way. It is strange for her to think of this small girl – the age of her students back in New Bodhum – as the result of nearly two millenniums worth of living.

“I remember all,” Yeul whispers in answer, one hand absentmindedly drawing patterns on the sand. When Serah glances down, she realizes that it is an endless spiral, growing bigger with each slow passing turn of Yeul’s finger. “I have always remembered all, but now I remember it as my own memories, and not as belonging to someone who had come before me. It is, plainly put, overwhelming.”

The pinkette manages to crack a small smile. “I bet.” A beat. “Do you… miss Caius? I mean, he has been your Guardian for such a long time, hasn’t he?”

Yeul blinks, and sends her a sidelong glance. “Do you miss your sister?” She questions, a wry smile tugging at her lips. The shadows of it teem with grief.  

Serah’s own smile, after a brief minute, is a perfect mirror.

“Sorry… What a silly question.”

More silence passes, only broken by the tides. Serah has noticed that they no longer breathe – their blood no longer rushes through their veins in order to sustain a pulsing heart. Their existence is that of true silence.

“I don’t think I wanted him to do it,” Yeul suddenly says, her small lips pursed in thought. “Kill Etro, I mean. If I try to compare all the memories, of all of the Yeuls that existed before this… I have always wanted him to be happy, more than anything, I think. It was always difficult, knowing when I would die – but it was harder for him, I always knew that. He was the one who had to watch me die every time and be unable to do anything about it. Our immortality was always different… if, maybe, we had been the same then it would have been easier… For the both of us.”

The girl draws her knees up to her chin, one hand weaving around them. “I remember not wanting to die, often. There had been lives where I wished it was anyone but I with Etro’s gift, but I… and it is difficult, to shift through so many lifetimes worth of memories, but I don’t think I ever wanted this for humanity. This horrible state of existence of no death, but also of no new life…” And then the echo of sadness seeps into her voice; a flicker of hope lights within Serah. “No one deserves the cursed immortality Caius had been forced into.”

Her gaze slides over to the pinkette. “You knew you would die after you went after Caius, and yet you did it anyway.” It is not a question but a statement – something dark, and incredibly tragic passes over Serah’s face at the words. “Of course. The Seeress always foresees her own death… unable to do anything to change it…”

It takes several moments of composing herself before Serah can answer, her face wrought with both guilt and sorrow. “I didn’t see… I didn’t see Valhalla collapsing, or the effects the chaos would have on our world… But I knew that going into that battle, if we were to win, it would end with my death. But I did it anyway…” She trails off, and scrunches some sand beneath her hands. Her fingers tremble. “I didn’t dare tell Noel,” she continues in a whisper, her voice choking back tears. “I knew he would have argued that we find another solution, but we were so close and…”

“Noel Kreiss, that’s right…” Yeul seems to almost soften at the name, for the briefest of seconds. “I remember him well.”

“He loved you, you know,” Serah quietly says after she regains her composure. “That’s why he initially went to find Etro’s gate and into the past. He wanted to save you…”

“I have been loved many times, by many people over my lifetimes,” Yeul replies steadily, and that is the end of that topic. Then – “The last vision that you saw right before the chaos came through the Gate – do you remember what it was?”

“I saw…” and Serah tries hard to remember, grasping at the fleeting moments before she found herself in the darkness. Her jaw tightens, brows furrowed with confusion. “I think… I saw a night of fireworks. And my sister below them.”

Yeul lets out a small sound; Serah thinks it might be the remains (or perhaps beginnings) of a chuckle. “Fireworks…” she mutters, and then falls silent.

“So… what do we do now?” Serah asks after an indecipherable amount of time passes between them. “I mean, there has to be something, right…?”

Yeul shakes her head, her mane of hair sending sand flying. “We are dead,” she states, her words blunt. “This is not much of an afterlife, but this is the only one we have. There is nothing we can do. Our only way of living now is only within the hearts of those still alive who remember us.”

“Oh…” The desperation in Serah’s response is palpable; it hangs heavy in the air around them. “But then, if I saw Lightning, then maybe someone will get us out of here…?”

Everything about the girl in the white tribal clothes stills – she shifts, then, and looks straight into her companion’s face. Her expression remains grave, the green of her eyes dull. “Perhaps, Serah Farron, but you and I no longer have the ability to foretell the future. The present world outside of this dimension is no longer ours – the dead have no place with the living.”

She returns back to staring out at the waters, finished speaking. Serah follows her gaze, and notices that the thunder above them – which had been booming far from their location – seems to have quieted. “So now, I guess…”

“So now we wait,” Yeul finishes for her, voice grim.

Serah watches her stop her doodling of the spiral, having run out of space, and sweep a hand over it until the sand is once again smooth and spotless.

And she begins all over again.

 

 


End file.
